


For Love's Sake

by kireteiru



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, Major Character Undeath, in this house we say screw canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24591952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kireteiru/pseuds/kireteiru
Summary: "With the whole world crumbling, we pick this time to fall in love." - Ilsa (Casablanca) | Hanahaki AU. He coughed up the first petal after falling from the Forerunner Dreadnought.
Relationships: Cortana/John-117 | Master Chief
Comments: 5
Kudos: 71





	1. Promise of a Far-Off Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meanings taken from the Plant Symbolism page on Wikipedia.

The Chief coughed up the first petal after jumping from Truth’s Dreadnought and falling from orbit.

He didn’t think anything of it at the time - it was _barely_ a cough, more of a hitch in his breathing, completely understandable given that he had _fallen from orbit_ \- but then there was something on his tongue. It was towards the back of his mouth, small and thin and fragile, and he briefly wondered what it was - but then the Covenant were shooting at him and the Arbiter and the Marines with them, and he swallowed it down to shoot back.

* * *

The second time was on the bridge of the _Shadow of Intent_.

“Earth,” said Hood, “is all we have left. You trust Cortana that much?”

“Sir,” the Chief answered, “ _Yes_ sir.”

Then it came, still _barely_ there, just a hitch, and he felt the thing tickle his throat before he swallowed it down again and forced himself to focus on the admiral’s words.

“Then this is either the best decision you’ve ever made or the worst. Hell, if it is, Chief, I doubt I’ll live long enough to find out which.”

* * *

The third time it happened, it wasn’t one, but three, and he was lucky enough to be alone in his quarters when it happened.

Anxiety had had a tight hold on his heart ever since he heard the words of the Sangheili Major in Voi - “ _High Charity_ has fallen, become a dreaded hive.” He had worried about the repercussions for them all, of course. Had the Flood sent out other ships to take other worlds? Was this going to turn into - _whatever_ had made the Forerunners decide that _wiping out the entire galaxy_ was a perfectly reasonable response?

But also, John worried about Cortana. She had left him a message on a Flood-infested ship; was she _trapped_ in _High Charity_ with that _thing_ they had met under the Library?

His chest hitched again, and this time he actually _coughed_. It was over just as quickly as it had begun, and again, there was something on his tongue. _This_ time, though, he could figure out what it was.

The Chief shut off his shields, then reached up and undid the latches for his helmet, holding whatever it was on his tongue so his teeth didn't damage it. The helmet came off, and he pulled the things out of his mouth.

They were flower petals, each one oval-shaped and soft purple, and the blood froze in John’s veins.

_It couldn’t be._

He had never actually seen a live case of Hanahaki Disease before. No Spartan had; there had never been a reason for their trainers to show them one. Still, they had been briefed on the nature of the _affliction_ , as their trainers had called it, and every single Spartan had been strictly instructed that if they ever found themselves _ill_ in such a manner, they were to report in for treatment _immediately_.

The training had been so deeply instilled that he was halfway down the hall to the infirmary before he even realized he was on his feet.

But there he stopped, petals crushed in his fist. They were almost at the end of their journey, he reasoned, and as the only Spartan onboard, he couldn’t afford to be laid up in the infirmary after the _treatment_. He needed to be ready to fight Truth and the Covenant, and since the disease was still in the early stages, it would not yet affect his performance in the field. He could wait.

(All of the Spartans knew what being _treated_ for Hanahaki did, though their trainers didn’t know that they knew.)

* * *

John was more careful than he had ever been to avoid ONI’s all-seeing eye, but it was impossible to look up the flowers on the holonet without them knowing. They monitored all the Spartans’ logins and usage more actively than any other personnel, even their own.

But once roused, his curiosity was almost as impossible to sate as Cortana’s. (Another hitch in his breath at the thought of her, another petal on his tongue. It didn't take Doctor Halsey’s brilliance for him to make the connection.) He _wanted to know_. He planned carefully, then managed to corner the only two people he was _sure_ he could trust somewhere where ONI couldn’t see. There were blind spots everywhere, if only you knew how to look for them.

“What’s up, Chief?” Johnson asked, an eyebrow near his hairline as he chewed on the stump of his cigar.

“Is something the matter?” Miranda asked.

A fair question on her part. The Spartan had approached them with his helmet off, so this wouldn't be on the recorder data. He hesitated for a second, then shook his head. Nothing was _really_ wrong, not _yet_. “I need to borrow someone else’s holonet logon.”

That made both of them frown, but it was Miranda who spoke. “Don’t you have your own?”

“ONI watches it.”

 _That_ piqued their interest. “Tryin’ to evade the spooks, huh?” said Johnson, grinning, “You can use mine, no problem. But what d’ya need it for?”

“I need to look something up.” When Miranda frowned, John knew his usual brevity wouldn’t be enough to convince her. He hesitated again, weighing his options, then carefully reached into one of his hip pouches.

There had been only two other episodes since his realization, but he’d saved the petals. Miranda and Johnson’s eyes went wide when they saw them sitting on his hand, faintly bruised from his handling despite his attempts at gentleness, and they both understood right away, their gaze snapping back to his own.

He looked away, shifted uncomfortably. “I know what it is,” he said, as quiet as he could while still ensuring they could clearly hear, “what’s causing this. I just… want to know what these are from.”

“And on a ship in Slipspace, with only minimal plant life, ONI would know - or could at least _guess_ \- why you're looking something like that up,” Miranda finished equally softly.

He nodded.

The officer picked up one of the less-damaged petals and examined it closely, then she put it back down. “You’re in luck. You won’t need Johnson’s logon - _this_ time, at least.” She inclined her head to the petals and continued, “Those are lilacs. _Purple_ lilacs. If you’re one for believing the supposed _symbolism guides_ , they mean ‘first love’.”

Johnson nodded and actually tucked his cigar away. Then he looked up at the S-II and said, “You up for telling us who?”

He looked away again, but still whispered, “...Cortana.”

Another petal slipped from between his lips, and Miranda caught it before he could, looking thoughtful. Then she put it with the others on his hand and closed his fingers around them. “Would they _force_ you to go for ‘ _treatment_ ’, if they knew?” she asked, quieter than before.

There was no need to ask who she was referring to. He swallowed another petal and gave the shortest, quickest nod.

“We’ll cover for you if you need it,” Johnson said, equally soft.

“...Thank you.”

* * *

There were no more petals for a while. He was completely focused on the battle in front of him, on finding Truth and putting an end to his ambitions and mowing through every Covenant soldier who tried to stand in his way.

There were a lot of those, but nowhere near enough.

And then _High Charity_ arrived at the Ark, crashed somewhere in the distance and released the horror of the Flood on the Forerunner Installation.

For a moment, the only thing he could do was pray that Cortana had somehow survived the crash and the Gravemind, pray that she was in there somewhere and that he could come up with some reason, _any_ reason, for him to go looking for her - he’d _promised_ that he would come back for her, and he didn't make promises he couldn't keep.

But then the Flood came for him, too, and he had to swallow more petals and keep fighting. Truth was within their grasp, and they _had_ to take this opportunity while it lasted. The rest of the galaxy depended on it.

* * *

John got his reason, but at a cost. Miranda had been crippled trying to rescue Johnson and stop Truth, and the man had barely managed to get her into cryo on the _Dawn_ before she bled out completely.

But he had his reason. Spark could have fabricated another Activation Index, true enough, but why would he need to do that when there was one (hopefully) already waiting for them on _High Charity_? It was enough for him, and it was enough for Johnson to convince the next highest-ranking officer (one Lieutenant Commander Wilson) to let John make the attempt. If nothing else, he could hold at least part of the Flood’s focus, buy them time for Spark to do his thing. The officer was _far_ from thrilled at the thought that the Chief might die on his watch, but he still let the Spartan go.

John swallowed petals the whole way through the infested station, though he noticed that these were different than the lilacs, had a different shape and taste and texture, and there seemed to be two types of them. Or, rather, _at least_ two of them, including one that was so tiny he barely noticed it at first.

The flowers stopped coming when he broke the stasis barrier in the Sanctum of the Hierarchs. No - they stopped when he heard her voice again.

“You _found_ me.”

Her voice was thin and frail, but it banished the fear that had pulled his chest tighter and tighter.

“But so much of me is _wrong_ ,” she nearly gasped, “out of place. You might be too late.”

He went to one knee next to the holoprojector. “You know me. When I make a promise…”

“You… keep it.” She lifted her head, her bright glow and scrolling calculations returning. “I _do_ know how to pick ‘em.”

John couldn't stop his smile, didn’t even try. “Lucky me.” But he’d had a reason for coming here, same as she’d had a reason for leaving him that message about the Halo. “Do you still have it?”

She stood up, then held out a hand. “The Activation Index from the first Halo ring.” It appeared over her palm. “A little souvenir I hung onto, just in case. Got an escape plan?”

He got back to his feet. “Thought I’d try shooting my way out. Mix things up a little.” He offered her her chip, and she sorted herself in without hesitation. He returned the chip to his helmet and felt the familiar ice flow into his brain, and he let his eyes drift shut for just a moment, reveling in her return.

“Just keep your head down,” she sighed in his ear, “There’s two of us in here now, remember.”

* * *

Spark had gone insane, used some kind of energy beam on Johnson - and hit John and the Arbiter too, before the Spartan took him out. But by some miracle the Chief absolutely _refused_ to question, the man had survived the hit and passed Cortana’s chip back to John, letting him activate the Installation.

The Spartan scooped the man up and threw him over his shoulder, wincing when Johnson _howled_ in pain. Then he and the Arbiter were _running like hell_ for the opening in the cliffs, where the Sergeant’s Warthog waited. The Chief only had one arm free, the other holding Johnson, so he let the Arbiter lead the way, successfully if inelegantly wielding his sidearm with just one hand. The Sergeant himself helped where he could, snatching the assault rifle off John’s back plates and firing at the Flood that thought to get in behind them.

When they reached the Warthog, he put Johnson in the passenger seat as gently as he could afford to, then jumped in the driver’s seat and waited for the Arbiter to jump on the turret before flooring it for the _Dawn_.

The race through the half-constructed Halo was probably the most harrowing drive of his entire career, made more so by Johnson’s pained, frantic gasping next to him and Cortana’s warnings about the Halo’s charging sequence.

But they made it to the _Dawn_ , and made the jump into the hangar, though the Warthog tumbled end over end and sent them all spilling out onto the deck. John shook himself and looked around to the others - just in time to feel the _Dawn_ tilt under him, heavy equipment starting to slide. The Arbiter grabbed Johnson and pulled him out of the way of a Scorpion, even as the Spartan dodged their Warthog, and they nodded to each other. John raced for the holostation nearby, inserting Cortana’s chip, while the alien took Johnson deeper into the ship.

The AI appeared at once on the holopanel and said, “Hang on!”

The _Dawn_ started accelerating almost immediately - they couldn't afford to be slow and gentle the way protocol dictated, not in this situation. Cortana took them up and out as fast as she could, but everything unsecured in the hangar started sliding out - including their Warthog, which was heading straight for them. He threw out a hand and managed to shove out up and away from the holostation, but it knocked him loose from where he’d been hanging on for dear life. He stopped his slide into the void by slamming his fist through the deck, then he heard Cortana call his name. He looked up - and had to flatten himself against it when the Scorpion that almost crushed the Arbiter and Johnson made a go at him as well.

When the last cargo modules tumbled out after it, he managed to climb back up to where she was leaning over the edge of the holopanel. When he pulled himself to his feet, she did as well and looked at him with such relief that for a moment he thought… but no. This wasn’t the time.

But she did eject her chip from the holostation so she could rejoin him in his armor. “If we don’t make it…”

“We’ll make it.” They’d made it this far.

“It’s been an honor serving with you, John.”

He let his head fall back to cover the hitch in his breath, and swallowed the petals back even as the world went white.

* * *

John woke to Cortana calling his name. It was dark, and he was weightless, and it took him a moment to realize he was alive as well. But then he flipped on his helmet lamps, and Cortana said, “I thought I’d lost you, too.”

He looked around, spotted his assault rifle nearby and carefully pushed himself over to it. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure. When Halo fired, it shook itself to pieces, did a number on the Ark. The Portal couldn't sustain itself. We made it through just as it collapsed.” When he came to the edge of the hall, where the metal still glowed with heat, and looked out into empty space, she corrected, “Well. Some of us made it.”

That was that, then. There was protocol for situations like this, and if he wanted to live long enough to be rescued, he had to follow it.

Even though it meant leaving Cortana alone. _That_ , more than anything else, made him hesitate, made him hover for a long moment at the edge of the _Dawn_. But finally he turned and started making his way toward the closest cryo bay, hoping there was enough power left to sustain the freezer.

If he stayed out with her, he would die. There wasn’t enough air, enough food or water, to sustain him for however long it would take for them to be rescued. He had to go under.

John found the cryo bay and its holopedestal. “But you did it,” Cortana said as he drew near, “Truth and the Covenant, the Flood… it’s finished.”

He slotted her into the panel, and she appeared at once, smiling at him. “It’s finished,” he repeated, shutting off his helmet lamps. Reluctantly, he turned away to stow his weapons in the locker next to his chosen tube.

(It was the one closest to the holopanel, of course.)

“I’ll drop a beacon, but it’ll be awhile before anyone finds us,” the AI said as he climbed into the tube, “Years even.”

Years. He wasn’t sure how old she was, but UNSC AIs only lasted for around seven years before succumbing to rampancy. For a moment, the thought of waking up to find her dead was enough to make him want to climb back out of the tube, but she had already started the freezing sequence. The lid of the pod was coming down.

“I’ll miss you,” she said.

Another cough, another petal on his tongue - and a leaf, this time. He swallowed them both down and said, “Wake me when you need me.”

* * *

To his mind, he’d only been out for a few seconds, but for Cortana and the rest of the galaxy, it had been more than four and a half years. A lot had happened out there, it seemed; there was a new sect of the Covenant causing problems, and a giant Forerunner planet that sucked them inside - and oh yeah, Cortana was going rampant.

He’d been swallowing down leaves and petals almost constantly since that revelation, but he _refused_ to let it affect his ability to fight. Cortana could protect herself digitally, but he had to protect her physically and transport her back to the UNSC so they could get help for her.

So of course the very first UNSC ship they came across (and he used that term _very_ loosely) had a commanding officer who was… _less than helpful_. Up until he met Del Rio, John hadn’t actually realized how much he was used to officers who let him operate independently and do whatever he thought was necessary. But with the threat of the Didact hanging over all their heads, he couldn’t afford to obey orders - and he _certainly_ wasn’t going to stay on board when the man had inadvertently provoked Cortana into a rampant episode and then threatened her life right in front of him.

John’s whole life had been dictated by adherence to protocol, but he was _not_ going to take that lying down, and he was not about to stay on a ship where the commanding officer had threatened Cortana and had the override codes to his quarters.

“It may be awhile before we find another ride home. You know that, right?”

He swallowed more leaves, more petals and said, “It’ll be okay.”

* * *

It wasn’t.

* * *

The holopedestal broke apart in front of him and his throat closed up with plant life even as he screamed, “ _Cortana?!_ ”

Yet as he scrambled to his feet again, he heard whispers. “Take it to the core. _Destroy it._ I’ll always take care of you. We will light this. Place the bomb in the core.”

The copies were right. The Didact took priority.

(He’d never been one to think about how he would die, much less how he would intentionally kill himself. Yet he couldn’t help but think that this was as good a way as any. Going out with a bang, saving humanity from the Didact… and dying with the one he loved.)

" _Prime the nuke... Sa-a-a-ve them! Destroy the Composer!”_

He ran for the core.

* * *

But he didn’t die. John had slapped his hand down on the bomb, a point-blank nuclear detonation… but somehow he had survived, encased in walls of hard light. He recognized the patterns and called, “Cortana? Cortana, do you read?”

No response, and he forced himself back to his feet and said, “Cortana, come in."

There was a blue glow at the corner of his eye, different from the hard light. He turned.

It was Cortana, emerging from the hard light in a body of her own, exactly as he remembered her. She walked towards him, smiling sadly, but his throat closed up. He could taste the chlorophyll from the leaves. Still, he managed, "How...?"

"Oh, _I'm_ the strangest thing you've seen all day?" she returned. Their old song and dance.

"But if we're here-"

She smiled wider, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "It worked. You did it. Just like you always do."

That was enough - for now. But there were other things… John looked around the bubble. "So how do we get out of here?"

There was no reply. When he looked back at her, Cortana was looking down at the floor. "I'm not coming with you this time."

A whole flower this time. He ground it between his teeth, briefly praying it wasn’t toxic, then swallowed it and choked out, " _What?_ "

"Most of me is down there,” she said, tilting her head, “I only held enough back to get you off the ship."

"No. That's not-! We go together."

"It's already done."

He took a step towards her and tried again. "I _am not_ leaving you here."

"John..." She crossed the last few steps between them and touched his breastplate. She sighed softly. "I've waited so long to do that."

He couldn't - he had to look away. He tried to say the words, but what came out was, "It was my job to take care of you."

"We were supposed to take care of each other,” she returned, “And we did."

He looked back up, and she smiled sadly. “Cortana- please..." _Please understand me. I’m trying to get the words out - I want you to hear them before… before…!_

Cortana started to back away, back toward the walls.

"Wait!"

"Welcome home, John."

She merged with the wall and vanished, and it felt like the ground fell out from under him.

It might as well have.


	2. Reclaimed Heart

The _Infinity_ pulled him from the wreckage of the Didact’s ship. It hardly seemed to matter; he felt hollowed out by grief, a dead man walking, and he barely responded to Captain Lasky when the other man found him on the ship’s observation deck.

But he couldn't stay in a bubble of isolation forever. HIGHCOM wanted to hear his report, and he explained his actions as clearly as he could without revealing the Hanahaki; Serin may have been a former Spartan, but she was ONI now and he didn't believe for a second that she would put his wishes ahead of the organization. (Perhaps that was unfair of him, but it had been a long time since they had served together, and people changed.)

It wasn't like it mattered, anyway. John could almost _feel_ the roots retreating from his lungs, and the few petals he’d coughed up before the debriefing had been dry and shriveled.

But it turned out the Didact wasn’t as _gone_ as he’d thought, and he came alive again to finally put an end to the Forerunner using the very weapon he thought to fire near Earth.

Then he was empty again. Just going through the motions.

(He’d managed to find an open public terminal to look up the crumpled petals he was still coughing up. Marigolds. Pain and grief.)

(He had never heard what happened when the target of someone’s Hanahaki died before they confessed. Maybe this was to be his lot, until his grief ran its course. It wasn’t so bad, and at least the marigolds weren’t toxic.)

* * *

It was nice to know that some things hadn't changed. Military food was still garbage, and he ate without tasting it, staring off into space like he was trying to drill a hole in the mess hall’s bulkhead with nothing but his eyes.

That was where they found him.

“Chief.”

He startled, but didn't show it. He turned to look.

It was Miranda and Johnson. The woman was leaning heavily on both the sergeant and a cane, and he could see thick scar tissue running up one side of the man’s neck from Spark’s attack. But both of them were alive, were _here_ , and he automatically shot to his feet, hand already up in a salute. “Ma’am. Sir.”

“At ease, Chief,” Miranda said, taking a seat with a sigh, “It’s good to see you again.”

“Mm-hmm,” Johnson agreed, “Knew you’d be back at some point. It ain’t that easy to kill _any_ Spartan, let alone _you_.”

John nodded and sat back down to resume eating.

Miranda watched him in silence for several minutes. Finally, she said, “We heard about what happened.”

He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, then lowered it again and swallowed down a withered petal.

“I won’t pretend to understand how you feel,” she said, softer, “but I’m sorry just the same. I wish things had been different - for both of you.”

He clenched his jaw to stop another cough, then managed a quiet, “Thank you.”

Johnson had been mostly silent, but finally he spoke. “You’ve still got it.”

The man had sharp eyes. The Chief nodded shortly. “It’s… retreating. Slowly. And the… they’re dried out. Withered.” The mess hall was a public place. They could be overheard.

Miranda looked a little relieved. “I’m glad you won't have _that_ to worry about, at least,” she said, “When we heard, I was worried. I’ve never heard of any documented cases like this.”

“Neither have I.”

He finished eating, and Johnson stood up and stretched. “So, Chief. What d’you say about giving us a tour? I bet you know all the good stuff by now.”

Mostly he knew his quarters, S-Deck, and places to avoid other people, but he looped around anyway and showed them around the _Infinity_.

The memorial gardens in the atrium were one of his favorites, and it was easy to hide any petals that came up by burying them in the garden plots. Johnson tested the chilis that came off one of the pepper plants while Miranda told John about their recovery after the Battle of the Ark. It had been hard-going, more so for her than for Johnson because of all the spikes Truth had put in her back, but she’d done it and returned to active duty. She’d been promoted to Captain like her late father, and she had also been given command of the _Pillar of Autumn II_ , an _Autumn_ -class heavy cruiser that replaced her namesake. Johnson was one of the commanders of the Marines stationed onboard, though the ship was dry-docked right now, undergoing repairs from some conflict or another elsewhere in human space.

John was glad to see that they both had done well for themselves. He was about to say as much when another short bout of coughing seized him. It _was_ short, as short as the very first - but enough petals and leaves came up that he couldn't swallow them all. He spat them out onto his hand - and froze. Just like it had so many years ago, on the _Dawn_ on the way to the Ark, his blood turned to ice.

Most of the leaves and petals were desiccated, dull and dry on his palm, but there was a single bright purple petal lying fresh and vivid among the others.

He swallowed thickly, then looked up at Miranda and Johnson, who were equally stunned. After a moment, the woman picked up the fresh petal and cleaned it off to better look at it. “A tulip,” she said finally, “Purple isn’t usually a color that comes up with… this. It’s usually associated with royalty or nobility and springtime.

“And also… rebirth.”

* * *

John’s first thought was that Doctor Halsey had done as Cortana said she would and made another Cortana-model AI. He had made up his mind to refuse the moment Cortana had said as much back on Ivanoff Station, and if they offered now, he would still do so. That AI might be _A_ Cortana, but she wasn’t _His_ Cortana.

But the purple tulips meant _rebirth_ …

There was no precedent for this. _Any of it_. And he had absolutely no idea what to do.

So, he waited. ONI didn’t offer him a new AI, which was a relief; he didn’t want to have to explain why he refused. But fewer withered petals were coming up, replaced by more fresh ones (white acacia and white clover - secret love and “I promise”), and he still didn’t know what to do.

Finally, Miranda said, “Give us a message.”

“Ma’am?”

“You are a Spartan, Chief - some would say you’re _The_ Spartan - but even you have limits. There are places you can’t go, things you can’t do, for one reason or another. If Cortana _is_ out there, you know they won’t let you contact her.

“But _we_ can, and we go places you don’t. Give us a message that we can leave for her, one she’ll know is from you.”

John was silent for a long moment. At last he said, “Tell her… tell her that I wanted to keep my promise. And that I meant what I said before I went into cryo on the _Dawn_.”

_Wake me when you need me._

“She’ll understand?”

He nodded.

 _Why are you helping me with this_ , he did not ask. _It’s against regulations, against protocol - this_ isn’t allowed _. Spartans are_ soldiers _, and soldiers do their duty whatever the cost_.

 _No one deserves this_ , they did not answer. _No one deserves to go through life without loving and being loved. This is what your heart has decided. We cannot say how this will end, but we will help you as best we can._

* * *

There was silence for a long time.

Then Miranda and Johnson came back - with coordinates.

John had read his file before. Part of it, anyway, but enough to know that Eridanus II was his homeworld, where he’d been born, where he’d been taken from.

And now, where Cortana was calling him back to.

But he couldn’t just _leave_. He had gone AWOL before, but that had been his duty. He’d had to stop the Didact before he could destroy Earth and the entire human race.

(He had not gone for treatment for Hanahaki, but that had also been duty.)

(Or so he told himself.)

This - this was something _entirely_ different, and again, John didn’t know what to do. There was no protocol for this, no orders he could follow. He was adrift again, just like he’d been after the _Mantle’s Approach_.

But Cortana was calling. He wanted, more than anything, to answer.

Miranda was, as usual, a godsend. She was the one who met with Captain Lasky, who arranged for the Chief to _finally_ cash in on all of his accrued leave time (of which there was a _lot_ ). She was the one who met with Admiral Hood, who ( _somehow_ ) arranged for him to receive a small ship of his own, an experimental Prowler, so he could simultaneously do his duty to the UNSC and also do the exact opposite. They needed someone to put the Prowler through its paces, and he needed to chase the one bringing petals up from his lungs.

(He briefly wondered if there was an AI version of Hanahaki and if any AIs had ever contracted it. Then he thought about it for a bit longer and decided he never wanted to know the answer. The disease was cruel enough to those with physical forms to grow the flowers; he didn’t want to think about how much better or worse it might be for those with _digital_ forms, and what shape the disease might take.)

The _Acrisius_ was small, even for a Prowler, but she had a fully-operational if experimental human-Forerunner Slipspace drive, which was really all he needed. There was also a large crate in the cargo hold. He briefly considered skirting it, waiting until he was away to check it over, then thought better of it.

_Just in case. Good luck. - Hood_

He hadn’t been permitted to take his MJOLNIR with him. Now he knew why. There was a completely new set waiting for him inside the crate, one “GEN2 Mark VI MOD Variant”, which was fairly similar in appearance to his previous one but with a lot more under the hood - or so he’d heard from the S-IVs who had used it. It delayed his departure somewhat, but he put the armor on and ran a dozen systems checks even as more petals spilled from his mouth.

Red _Gladiolus_. Honor, conviction. White Heliotrope. Devotion.

* * *

Eridanus II was still a ruin, for the most part. The UNSC had reclaimed the planet for sure, and there were settlements here and there, but it was just as rural and off the beaten track as it had been before. As he brought the _Acrisius_ in for a landing, John wondered what his life would have been like if Doctor Halsey had never taken him. Would he have stayed on the planet, gone to school for a degree, gotten a job that wasn't fighting aliens on dozens of human worlds?

Would he have died with all the others when the Covenant glassed the planet?

Were his parents among the dead?

He didn't know. Glassed planets have bad records.

(He remembered hearing in passing about the reporter investigating his history. It hadn't mattered at the time, so he’d ignored it. He wished he’d paid more attention now. It would have been nice to know a little bit more about his family before the Spartans, especially now that he was coming home.)

* * *

Whoever had glassed Elysium City hadn’t done a very good job. Most of the city was still intact, although just as ruined as much of the planet, and it was easy enough for him to slip past the few patrols securing the site.

But once he did that, he realized that he had no idea what he was looking for. Usually it was Cortana who guided him to whatever systems he needed to access - or at least _recently_ that had been the case.

John moved carefully through the streets, keeping an eye on his motion tracker to avoid more patrols and swallowing down more plant life. The Hanahaki was getting worse; he had definitely progressed past the initial stage, now that leaves had rejoined the petals, and he could _feel_ the roots burrowing into the lower half of his lungs. Still, there wasn’t any blood yet, nor were there stems or whole flowers. He had time.

(He hoped.)

Then he stopped.

He had found his way to what had once been a civilian neighborhood, now abandoned with the destruction of the city. Even though the houses were half melted and in ruins, there was something familiar about the place… something that made him start down the road, keeping his assault rifle up but letting his feet carry him where they would.

He stopped at the broken down door of one house on the street, but the pounding of his heart said that it was most certainly _not_ a random choice. Through one of the blown-out front windows, he saw a faint glow, separate from the sun setting behind him, and the Spartan made his way inside, careful not to disturb anything.

There was nothing left inside, save for the wreckage of what might have been furniture, but for just an instant, he saw the house as it had been decades ago, before the end. But the memory was gone in the blink of an eye, before he really had time to process more than ‘That mass there used to be a couch facing the wall-mounted vidscreen’ and ‘That pile over there was the table where we ate every night. I used to sit there and draw while Mom and Dad cooked dinner.’

He’d been too young to do much else.

John set it aside and went in search of the light he’d seen from the door.

There was a datapad on the floor in one of the halls, screen faintly aglow. It was cracked, the case warped, but still functional, and the Spartan carefully swept the house before coming back to it. He let his assault rifle snap onto his back plates, then crouched to pick it up.

It asked for a login. The Chief hesitated, then tucked the datapad away and actually _searched_ the rest of the house. There was nothing, but he didn’t want to do anything in the open. He returned to the _Acrisius_ and locked the ship around him, sensors all on maximum gain. Then he pulled the datapad back out and entered his UNSC credentials.

Another logon screen appeared, but this one had only one box and an “Enter” key. And above it…

_I’ll miss you._

He choked back more petals and entered, _Wake me when you need me._

The box disappeared, replaced by another string of coordinates. John memorized them as fast as he could, the instant before the tablet in his hand sparked, sputtered, and burned out.

(He briefly mourned that he wouldn't be able to recover any of the more personal data from the pad, but if Cortana thought it necessary...)

He stowed the tablet and returned to the flight deck just in time to see some of the screens light up.

The _Acrisius_ picked up another Prowler moving into orbit, the _Aladdin_. It was older, larger than the experimental Prowler, and _maybe_ it was the paranoia of nearly three decades of horrific, genocidal warfare talking but John didn’t think it was a coincidence that the other ship turned up at the same planet that he did at roughly the same time.

His hands flew over the displays, engaging every stealth measure the ship had, then he took off with the utmost care, swallowing petals even as he keyed in the coordinates Cortana had left. Then he paused… and keyed in something else.

(Cole Protocol Article One dictated that all ships must enter Slipstream space with randomized vectors NOT directed toward Earth, the Inner Colonies, or any other human population center.)

John set the _Acrisius_ on a slingshot orbit to exit the Eridanus system but kept all sensors on the _Aladdin_ , waiting… But the other Prowler remained where it was.

For now.

While the _Acrisius_ accelerated towards the system’s edge, the Spartan ran every internal scan the ship had, checking for tracking beacons. There was nothing - or at least nothing the ship registered as _foreign_.

* * *

It was a little awkward landing the _Acrisius_ at a disused UNSC base on Emerald Cove. The Covenant hadn’t glassed the planet, but it _had_ been abandoned for more than a decade. The base wasn't nearly as bad as it would have been if it _had_ been glassed, but nature was already starting to reclaim the land.

He had gone against the Cole Protocol and done a short jump back towards the Inner Colonies and Earth, then turned back around and followed Cortana’s coordinates here. This was the station he and the other Spartans had been based out of during their training days, and he briefly smiled at the memory of that particular mission.

_“This reminds me of the underwater mission Chief Mendez sent us on at Emerald Cove. When he sabotaged half our air tanks? And we ended up stealing his.”_

_“And after, we ditched him and camped on that island. It was a week with nothing to do but light bonfires, bake clams, and surf.”_

_“Mmmmm, calamari.”_

His smile slipped. Anton and Grace were dead now, and he’d left Fred and all the other surviving Spartans behind. He hadn’t even told them where he was going or what he was doing.

Nothing for it now. He was already committed. He briefly unlatched his helmet to spit out another mouthful of petals - more tiny heliotrope - then entered the base.

The place was just as deserted as it appeared. Of humans, at least; there were animals and signs of animals everywhere. But the command center was sealed until he forced the door open, though the interior was incredibly dusty.

One screen was lit. It had the same login page as the datapad. He entered his credentials again. Then -

_You might be too late._

His heart skipped a beat, and he tried to keep his breathing under control even as his throat closed up with leaves. But what did that _mean?!_ He might be too late for _what?!?_ Had something -

No! No. It was the same as before: a call and response.

 _"But so much of me is_ wrong _\- out of place. You might be too late."_

_You know me. When I make a promise…_

Another string of coordinates came up, and he memorized these, too, swallowing back the plant life that was choking him.

Then alarms began to sound throughout the base, and a timer flashed up on screen.

 _“We have five minutes before the fusion drives detonate. We need to evac,_ now! _"_

John turned and _bolted_ for the Prowler, racing through the halls of the base at a speed that would have made Kelly proud. He made it to the _Acrisius_ just like he had the Longsword years ago and took off just in time, and the ship shook when the shockwave from the self-destruct rolled over it.

Again, he didn't set a course directly for the coordinates he’d been given. Instead, he set the ship to do a brief zig-zag, then jump out. But even though he trusted Cortana, he felt a brief moment of trepidation as he programmed the route in. These coordinates were _well_ beyond the edge of human space, and not in the direction of Covenant space, either. It was completely unknown territory, and there was no telling what was waiting for him there.

(Ideally, it was her. Realistically, it could have been anything, up to and including the Flood.)

(He sorely hoped it was the former.)

* * *

The _Acrisius_ settled into orbit around a world that looked to be mostly rock and desert, but it was far enough away from its star that it wasn't a volcanic hellscape like Io. But there was _something_ down there; the ship was picking up all kinds of unusual readings from below the surface, some of which were consistent with Forerunner technology.

( _Great._ He’d had such _fantastic_ luck with that before.)

The closest solid landing surface for the ship was almost ten miles away from the coordinates, so once he brought the Prowler down, the Spartan took a short break to eat, drink, and check his equipment - and also to run a health check. His MJOLNIR told him that the Hanahaki was progressing at a slower pace than it did for most people - possibly because he was a Spartan, and their enhancements let them fight harder and survive longer?

John spat up another mouthful of plants - more _Gladiolus_ and his first rose petals - then lowered the ramp and stepped off the ship, jumping down from the plateau where he’d landed and aiming for the coordinates Cortana had left.

It took four hours to reach the coordinates, climbing up and down dunes and fighting the driving wind and sand. The land around the waypoint looked just like any other plot of sand on the planet, with scattered rocks and spots where the wind had scoured the sand away to reveal bare rock beneath. There were other massive spurs in the distance, entire mountain ranges of _nothing_ but stone… but this space was suspiciously clear.

The Chief paused for a moment as he climbed a rise and looked around.

Nothing. But no sign of trouble either.

He kept walking - and a pulse of energy ran through the ground, making him stop dead. The air grew charged and heavy, stones started to float - and then there was another pulse, and the ground in front of him fell inward in a wide circle - until it didn’t.

Something emerged from below, dust and sand falling away from it, something even the Spartan would have called _an angel_ if it wasn’t clearly of Forerunner technology. It rose from the earth, fanning out its wings and looming high overhead, and released a third pulse of energy that made even _him_ stagger - right before he was surrounded by something like the golden teleportation rings from the Halos.

When his vision cleared, he was on what must have been the bridge of the thing. There were displays all around, showing readings of all kinds in a strange language that must have been Forerunner. Beyond those displays was a rendered view of what was in front of the - ship? Construct? He didn't know. But whatever it was, he didn't feel a thing as it accelerated, but it reached escape velocity in seconds and achieved orbit not too long after that.

There was a rising hum - the thing’s Slipspace engine was spinning up, preparing to jump. Yet as it did so, the _Aladdin_ arrived in-system.

So he _was_ being followed.

But then the darkness of Slipspace closed around him. With any luck, the tracking beacon was on the _Acrisius_ , and not his armor. He wasn’t sure where someone would even begin to conceal such a thing, especially when space was already at a premium in the MJOLNIR.

John approached the displays. “Cortana?”

No reaction. Either she wasn’t responding or she wasn’t here. He chewed and swallowed more plant life, along with the absolutely _disgusting_ taste of pollen, and sat down to wait out the journey.

* * *

The planet the construct arrived at only a few hours later was essentially the exact opposite of the one it had left: wet and lively and overgrown, with a number of Forerunner installations breaking through the rainforest canopy. Condensation started beading on his armor the moment the construct teleported him out onto what must have been a landing pad, and bird calls and the cries of other animals came in through his earpiece.

John opened a channel and tried again, coughing briefly on another larger petal. “Cortana?”

A whistle answered him somewhere ahead; it had been a long time since the Spartans had used that signal, but there was no way he could ever forget. _Oly oly oxen free_.

He headed towards it, briefly glancing back at the construct that had brought him there when it started making noise. It folded back up again, returning to a rough teardrop shape and suspending itself perfectly on the point, but light still glowed at a number of articulation points. He still had a way back, though how he would pilot it was a completely different matter.

There was a circular display in the building ahead, one that brightened at his approach, and he let instinct guide him through activating it. When it was satisfied, it dimmed again, and a lift lowered him to a path cut through the jungle even as he spat up more leaves. A structure in the distance responded as well, a massive spinning ring floating up into the air.

The Spartan followed the path through the rainforest and activated another console on his way to the structure. No foes came out to stop him, no Prometheans or Sentinels, which set him more on edge than if there had been any. Still, he kept moving - until he didn't.

He walked to the edge of a ridge and looked out over what must have been a Forerunner shipyard. Some wreckage from the _Mantle’s Approach_ hung suspended over the land in a net of hard light, Sentinels and Constructors swarming over it and presumably making repairs.

But then - _“Chief? Hello?”_

He wanted to sigh in relief, but he choked back petals instead. “Cortana.”

 _“It_ is _you. I’d hoped it would be, but I wasn't completely sure.”_

Understandable. He couldn’t have been completely sure it was her, either. “Where are you? What is this place?”

_“Forerunner world, designation Genesis. One of a handful of planets that house Gateways to the Domain. The Didact’s ship did an emergency jump here after you detonated the nuke and uploaded all of its data into the Domain to preserve it, including me. Think of it as a massive cloud databank - or at least that’s how the Forerunners used it, anyway.”_

“But you're all right?”

_“I think so, yes. The Domain… it has some very interesting properties. And since I’m inside it, I’m not bound by the limitations of a data crystal, which means that rampancy’s no longer an issue.”_

“That’s a relief.” It genuinely was. They had time - or at least _she_ did. “How do I get to you?”

_“Through the Gateway, that big building putting on a light show. You already triggered most of its activation sequence; just one more to go. Let me get the bridge for you.”_

A light bridge came to life nearby, and he crossed it to the Forerunner structure on the other side. There was a third console within, and he activated it just like the previous two. Its lift returned him to the lower level, and another bridge activated, leading into a cave system nearby.

“Are we the only ones here?” he asked her, climbing into the Phaeton she spawned for him.

 _“There_ is _the installation’s Monitor, 031 Exuberant Witness, but otherwise yes. The_ Aladdin _wasn’t able to follow the Guardian here.”_

Good.

 _“Any particular reason the ship had not one but_ four _Hanahaki removal specialists on board, and enough armor restraints and sedatives to knock out the entire Spartan Corps?”_

He ducked his head and felt his cheeks grow warm even as his chest grew tight. “There might be.”

When she spoke again, he could hear her smile. _“I look forward to hearing about it.”_

* * *

The Gateway was further away than it looked - or rather it was _much_ bigger than it had looked from a distance; there was nothing around it that had let him accurately gauge its true size. It took him hours to make his way up through it - hours of increasing tension. Cortana had noticed that he was unnerved by how empty the installation was and offered to spawn some Prometheans for him to _play with_ , but he turned her down. His mind was still spinning in circles, trying to decide how to tell her how he felt about her, to see if he could figure out how _she_ felt about _him_ , to figure out what he would do if she didn’t feel the same. Combat would distract him from his turmoil, true, but that same turmoil put him at risk. He could end up getting severely wounded or even killed.

But at last John passed through one last door and into the Gateway. It was a roughly spherical room with other platforms throughout, above and below, but there was only one in front of him, connected to his platform by a light bridge.

On that platform was a bright blue light atop a pedestal on the far side.

He crossed the bridge and heard the door shut - but not lock - behind him. “Cortana?”

A whole flower came up with her name - a rose. Without thorns, thank goodness. He wasn’t eager to have his mouth and throat torn up trying to swallow it back.

_“John.”_

The pedestal sparked, energy arcing over it, then she appeared, coalesced in a form of hard light. She was different than she had been, now wearing hard light armor of her own, sleek and unmistakably Forerunner, but her face was still the same.

It _was_ her.

He hesitated for a second, then reached up to pull off his helmet. The AI smiled when she saw his face and called up a hard light pedestal so he could set it down and have both hands free. Then she reached up to touch him.

Despite all the energy being put into the light to make it solid - and the energy of the light itself - her fingers were cool where they brushed his bare skin, and soft too - there was a little bit of give to the hard light in a way that mimicked flesh and blood. He tilted his head into her touch - but then he had to turn away when his throat closed up.

He coughed up another whole flower and spat it out into his hand. It was a _vibrant_ royal-blue rose, a few shades darker than Cortana herself, and the AI gently took it from him and cradled it in her hands, brushing her fingers over the petals. Then she looked up at him.

(Mystery, attaining the impossible, love at first sight.)

His jaw worked. _Say it. Say it, damn you!_

“I… I’ve missed you.”

 _God_ damn _it, soldier!_

But Cortana was well-versed in his language, and she smiled wide and warm. “Oh, John… I love you too.”

She stepped forward to wrap her arms around him, an embrace he returned even tighter, but for the first time in years, he breathed easy.


End file.
